


The Lalonde Curse

by Writing_will_be_my_death



Series: Awkward Soulmate Situations (A.S.S.) [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 18:37:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16959372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_will_be_my_death/pseuds/Writing_will_be_my_death
Summary: Your name is Rose Lalonde, and every soulmate of someone in your family will die at a young age. You doubt you will be any different.





	The Lalonde Curse

**Author's Note:**

> Yooooooo broadening my writing skills with some rosemary

It is a known fact within the Lalonde family that your soulmate will die either after you lose a colour and before you meet them, or shortly after you meet them. Your mother considers herself lucky, she met her soulmate, had your sister, and then her soulmate died. 

Yes, your mother’s soulmate is dead, but at least she met him.

Your sister wasn’t so lucky. Just days after bright blue faded from her vision, her emotions were stripped from her. To combat the emptiness, she raids your mother’s liquor. Your mother is too drunk to notice.

You take care of them both. Sometimes your mother will say that you shouldn’t have to do this, but you do it anyway. Maybe if you act proper enough, it’ll carry over when you lose your emotions.

You have well accepted the fact that you will never meet your soulmate. But goddamnit, it’s been 3 years since you lost that jade-green and you still feel emotionally fine! You don’t mean to wish someone dead, but it’s almost setting up a false hope for you, and honestly it’s cruel.

You don’t even want to meet your soulmate. You wear pink contact lenses so even if you do see them, you won’t have to deal with the pain of actually losing an existing relationship. 

You walk into school, as you do every school day, and as usual, most people avoid you. After all, you’re not exactly a “warm and fuzzy” kind of person.

You don’t have any friends here.

You’re pretty sure some kids here have nicknamed you “the dead rose” which, in your opinion, is rather uncreative. You’d much rather be “the rose of the void” but it’s not like you can choose your own nicknames.

“Alright class, listen up,” your teacher says, clearly sleep deprived, “we have a transfer student coming here soon. In like, a minute or something, so don’t be mean.” 

Wonderful. A new student. And the only empty spot is next to you. Perhaps you’ll be able to work out their inner psyche and get your nickname changed. Hopefully.

“Here she is,” your teacher says. You look to the doorway.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Oh dear fuck.

Oh dear fucking god.

She’s absolutely beautiful.

She’s tall, much taller than yourself, and she appears to be slender from how her gray and blue clothes drape around her body. Her umber skin almost appeared to glow with golden hue, and a grayish blue scarf is wrapped around her head, covering her hair. It’s probably a teal colour, you just can’t see the green.

And what’s more is that her eyes are gray. Not the gray tinged with slight colour that you normally see, no, hers are perfectly gray. 

The chances of this girl being your soulmate are rather high. From the gray eyes to the instant physical attraction, you might as well take out your contact lenses and profess your undying love to her.

But you won’t, because you can’t. She’s going to die, and dear god you don’t want that to happen. Maybe if you avoid her enough, she’ll live, maybe-

“Hello,” the girl says as she sits down next to you, “what’s your name?”

Fuck, your teacher probably said her name already while you were zoned out. Now you can’t ask her name because you’re already supposed to know it. Oh look at you, you’re worse than Dave was with that Karkat guy.

“If you don’t want me sitting here, I can ask the professor to have someone switch seats with me,” she says when you don’t answer.

“No, it’s fine,” you assure her, “I’m not much of a social person.”

Luckily, you only share first period with her. What a relief. Unfortunately, that’s also when your mind is the most asleep and therefore you have the least amount of self control.

Basically, it’s been one week and all you’ve been doing is staring at her out of the corner of your eye. You’re pretty sure that if this keeps up, you’ll fail the class.

You still don’t know her name.

You do see her exchanging a few words with the other students around lunch. They’re probably warning her about the evil “dead rose” who sits next to her in first period. Surprisingly, her attitude towards you never changes.

~

That weekend proves to be hell. Saturday, Roxy throws a party, or tries to. You’re not actually sure, she kept saying people were coming but no one actually ever came. She then proceeded to crank the music, much to your dismay, and tried to have a solo party.

Your mother then started drunkenly dancing too, while sobbing and asking Daniel to come back and dance with her.

The whole “party” was shut down as soon as Roxy threw up. Your mother followed soon after, and so began your common worries of either of them getting alcohol poisoning. So far, it’s a normal weekend. Sunday plays as expected, your mother crying with her hangover and Roxy trying to counteract her hangover with getting drunk. 

Unfortunately, it takes hours to get your mother and sister to go to bed that night, and you end up going to sleep much later than you’d like. Monday morning, you sleep through your alarm, and run out of time to help your mother and sister. 

You make it to school on time, just barely, and most of your classmates are already seated, including the girl who sits next to you. Just looking at her makes you feel happier.

“Hello,” the girl says warmly as you take your seat.

“Hello,” you reply, attempting to be cold, but just end up sounding neutral.

“How was your weekend?” She asks.

“It was fine,” you lie. “Mostly just helped my mother clean the house,” a complete lie. You meant to clean, but your mother and sister were too drunk. “How was your weekend?”

“Quite fun, actually,” she says, smiling, “my family and I went to the museum.”

“That’s nice,” you reply. You are very tired, and do not wish to continue this conversation. The things you could accidentally say during these sleep-deprived moments.

You rest your head on your desk.

~

Someone pokes you on the shoulder. You look up, to see your teacher scowling at you. Shit, you fell asleep in class.

“Ms. Lalonde, principal’s office, now,” your teacher says.

The girl who sits next to you gives you a sympathetic smile as you stand up and walk out the class. The principal does not give you a sympathetic smile, but instead a stern frown.

“Rose Lalonde, it’s not like you to fall asleep in class,” The principal says as you sit down.

“I am terribly sorry, Mrs. Peixes, it won’t happen again, I promise. I stayed up late reading,” more lies. You wish you could stop lying.

“I’m calling your mother.”

You freeze, and watch as the principal picks up the phone, and calls your mother. You hope she doesn’t pick up, that she’s passed out on the couch, or crying too much about Daniel, you just don’t want her to pick up the phone.

She pulls the phone away from her ear and puts it back in the holder. You relax.

“Is there anyone else I can call?” 

“My sister, but she’s an alcoholic, she’s probably drunk,” it’s easier to admit that part. It’s easier to pretend that your mother does her best to care for a drunk daughter and support a sober one. You wish things were easier.

“Fine, go back to class,” she says, and waves you off.

You hurry back to class, only for second period to begin. Oh well, at least you won’t have to see the girl who sits next to you. That would be embarrassing. At the very least, the rest of the school day passes in a blur, and before you know it school is over.

“Rose!” Someone calls as you walk out the school.

“What,” you say indifferently as you turn to face whoever has decided to speak to you.

Shit. It’s her. The girl who sits next to you in first period. And she knows your name.

“I was wondering if you would mind coming over to my house to help me with some work assigned in our shared class? It’s been rather difficult and the professor said that you do exceedingly well in that class,” she says.

“Of course I can help you,” you reply, like an idiot. Like a person who doesn’t have to care for her mother and sister.

“Wonderful!” She beamed with a beautiful smile, “my sister is waiting in the parking lot.”

As you follow her to her sister, you mentally berate yourself for agreeing to help her with her work. While it may be a nice thing to do, who knows what could happen to Roxy and your mother. Would Roxy have left you alone with your mother? No, of course not. She'd take you with her to her friends’ houses and say that your mother demanded it. While this did mean that your mother was all alone, at least you weren’t.

Hopefully Roxy is sober enough to text you if something goes wrong.

The girl walks up to a car and taps on the driver’s window, which rolls down to reveal a slightly older girl, probably around Roxy’s age. She looks very similar to the girl who you followed here, however is dressed in extremely different clothing. A black v-neck dress with spaghetti straps showing multiple tattoos, no covering on her head, and piercings on her lower lip, eyebrows, and ears. 

“Do you think it would be alright with mother if a friend came over to help me with some work?” She asks the girl in the car, who you presume to be her aforementioned sister..

“She’d probably actually smile at the fact you made a friend who isn’t on the other side of the country,” her sister replies.

“She already smiles at the fact that I don’t go to parties every other night.”

You briefly wonder if their mother is like yours.

“Well get in then, don’t want to keep mother waiting,” her sister says, and you and the girl get in the back seats.

“I’m Porrim, by the way,” the girl’s sister says. At least now you know one of their names.

“I’m Rose,” you reply, just to be polite.

“Ah, so you’re Rose?” She asks with an air of suspicion, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You let the implications of that sentence be lost on you.

When you arrive at their house, you can immediately see it in their mother’s eyes. Empty stares, smiles that are all tooth and no meaning, everything about her screams that she’s suffering from a dead soulmate. Yet she still takes care of her children. You wonder how. You don’t wonder enough to ask her about it, you don’t want her to think you already know someone like that.

The girl takes you up to her room, where she pulls out her notebook and asks a few questions here and there. Overall, you don’t actually think she needed your help to do this, the teacher’s help would have done. You have no reason to be here.

You reach a lull in the conversation, and your phone rings to save you. It’s Roxy’s ringtone.

“Hi, Roxy,” you say.

“Fuck, Rosie I fugin… fuck…” She sounds like she just threw up.

“Should I come home?” You ask.

“Yea, couch is a mess, Rosie.”

“Alright, I’ll be home soon.”

You hang up.

You should have gone home.

You shouldn’t have come here.

You don’t want to go home.

“I need to go home,” you say to the girl next to you.

“Okay,” she replies, “my mother can drive you back.”

You expect her to stay back at her house, while her mother drives you home, but she comes as well, even going as far as to say that it was nice to have you over. You don’t know how to react to this, and simply nod in reply. It’s a stupid reply, what were you thinking, just nodding!

You rush into your own home before you can embarrass yourself further. Roxy is passed out on the couch, next to a cushion covered in vomit.

Wonderful.

~

The following days come and go with little conflict. The girl who sits next to you attempts to make conversation with you, and you happily comply, but you refuse to go over to her house again. You don’t want to see her mother, a reminder that yours and your sister could be better, a reminder that you haven’t done enough for them. You still don’t know the girl’s name.

The only conflict comes from home, where your mother and sister get drunker by the day. It’s exhausting, you’re exhausted, and that’s why you find yourself seated on the floor of your room with the curtains closed. You’ve barely moved all day, only going from your bed to the floor. You’re still in your pyjamas, and haven’t even put in your contacts. Thank god it’s Sunday.

You don’t know how drunk your mother is, and you don’t know how drunk Roxy is. You don’t want to know. You’re tired of knowing.

You think you hear someone ring the doorbell, but you brush it off. No one comes by here anymore, and chances are that everyone in this house is too drunk to answer the door.

…

“Rooooooooosie!!!!!!!!!!!” You hear Roxy call from downstairs. 

You don’t want to answer her. You really don’t, but you should.

“Rosie, a perpson at the dore fooooooor youu.”

Fuck, fucking shit, there is someone at the door, Roxy is drunk as all fuck, this is terrible. You run down the stairs as fast as possible, and shove Roxy away from the door. 

“I am so terribly sorry about that, she isn’t normally so drunk, I swear-” you stop talking when you realize who’s at the door. The girl who sits next to you in first period.

You make the grave mistake of looking her in the eyes, and watch with horror as a slightly blue green fills in most of the gray areas. You’re not wearing your contacts, you should have known better than to look someone in the eyes, especially her, you are such a fucking idiot.

You do the only sensible thing in this situation, and slam the door shut. You then proceed to run up to your room because, well, you want to go back to hiding. You hate this, you absolutely hate this. You don’t even want to see the colour, it’ll vanish again far too soon. You can’t help but cry at the thought of that.

She doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve to die.

At this point you’re in hysterics, ugly tears running down your face, and screams somehow making your room seem even more empty and quiet. You throw your comforter across the room, scatter your pencils and pens, and just have a general fit in your room.

“Rose?” It’s her. What’s she doing here, how did she get in?

“Get out!” You yell, and turn to face her.

“Rose, you’re tearing yourself apart, I’m not leaving you like this,” her voice cracks, she’s started crying too.

She walks over to you, and hugs you. It feels nice, it feels… right. You hug her back, and bury your face in her shoulder. 

It hits you that she’s still going to die, this isn’t going to convince the universe that you deserve her. How can you deserve her, when you still don’t know her name?

You push her away.

“No, no you can’t be here!” You shout.

“Why? Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because you’re going to die! Because every soulmate in my family’s known lineage has died and I don’t want you to die! You don’t deserve to die!”

She stands there, shocked over your words. You expect her to leave, you expect her to move on with the fact that she might as well not have a soulmate at all. But she doesn’t do anything.

Finally, she says something, “my family had the same problem.”

“What?”

“It’s true, my sister is the one who’s known her soulmate the longest, and I just wanted a little bit of happiness with my soulmate before everything went bleak.”

Oh.

You weren’t expecting that.

But you still don’t know her name. She deserves better than you

“You deserve better than me,” you tell her, your voice filled with regret.

“You are literally who the universe decided I needed to be with!”

“I don’t even know your name. I was too busy gawking at you, that I didn’t pay attention to when your name was called on the attendance, and of course Rose ‘doesn’t give a shit about anyone’ Lalonde couldn’t be bothered to ask,” your voice slowly fills with hysterics.

“My name is Kanaya.”

You hug her. You hug her because you don’t know what else to do, because her name is Kanaya and she’s beautiful and kind and she’s your soulmate and you don’t want her to die. You sob into her shoulder, and it’s not long before you feel her begin to sob into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her between sobs. “I’m so, so very sorry.”

“It’s okay,” a pause, “I forgive you.”

And you stay there like that, until your sister tells you that your mother spilled a whole bottle of wine on the carpet. Kanaya helps you clean up. It’s nice. She even decides to stay the night.

You think you know why you’re mother was considered lucky.

~

Kanaya’s mother helps take care of your mother and sister. She hasn’t had any luck sobering them up, but at least you have less stress on your shoulders. Not to mention, you can finally spend time with your family that isn’t damage control.

You spend most weekends with Kanaya, despite your paranoia of her inevitable death. You just hope she’s right that your respective curses cancelled each other out.

You kiss her for the first time on her birthday.

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you think you’ve found happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> How was my characterization????? I’m not very good at writing any of these characters lol


End file.
